


Cognizance

by spindleofwords



Series: It Takes Them Four Years and Maybe Nearly Dying [9]
Category: Static Shock
Genre: Domestic Violence, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Gear!Whump, M/M, Sorry Not Sorry, Static!whump, Superheroes, University
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-02-20 16:24:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13150461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spindleofwords/pseuds/spindleofwords
Summary: Someone X Someone, Forever.The final installment in It Take Takes Them Four Years and Maybe Nearly Dying, a VirgilXRichie fic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas! I come with presents and gifts. Appropriately, this first one is a late-ish christmas present where I am and the others will be posted over Kwanzaa (habari gani!). Over the next few days, I'm going to be posting feverishly. I want to say thank you again to the very wonderful people who inspire me to keep going. This is going to be the final installment, and though I realize this has been a journey... this story has indeed taken me four years to perfect and, uh, nearly dying. SO with love, please accept this fic!

Muffled banging of thin cabinet doors and pan-bottoms clanking on the stovetop woke the blonde. His ears pricked at the tickticktick of the gas shooting up, at the muffled hum of Sharon’s endless lineup of 00’s girl groups. But Richie did not open his eyes, tenderly feeling out moving before deciding against it, and resolved to fall back into the shroud of sleep if he could. Sharon’s voice floated up the stairs before Richie could fully devote himself to the endeavor.

“You’ll be late to school, Virgil! Get your ass moving, baby brother!”

Next to him, Virgil groaned and stretched, then stopped--- surprised at the other warm body in his bed. Turning over blearily, V met Richie’s eyes, and looked around before flopping back on the bed with disgust. 

“I almost forgot.”

Richie blinked swollen eyes awake and threw an arm over his face, hating that his voice would be hoarse when he spoke. 

“I wish I could.” 

A knock at the door made Virgil stiffen, and Rich watched as he gingerly made his way to the door. The blonde knew that underneath his white tee, the other teen would have bruises littering his ribs, and he winced in sympathy as Virgil carried himself carefully. 

“Hey, Pops.”

“Virgil. No school today?”

“Sir…”

Richie watched mutely as Virg opened the door to his room fully and stepped back, turning back to Rich and throwing him a sweatshirt as Mr. Hawkins moved across the threshold. Richie ran a hand through his hair, feeling it stick hay-soft into the air as his hand tunneled into it. He couldn’t bear to look at Mr. Hawkins, knew that if he did he’d only start crying again, and so Richie only stared at the lines of his hands. It wasn’t possible for all of him to feel so much older in all of one night, could it? But his hands seemed to have more definition, more valleys and more minute wrinkles than they did before. Richie wondered if his face held the same.

He could listen with only one ear as Virgil spoke to his father, voice serious.

“Pops, I know I haven’t been completely clear with me and Rich’s relationship. And I know he spends the night during the summer, and on weekends, and you say nothing, but mostly during school nights we keep our hands to ourselves--” 

A sharp intake, and Richie could tell he was getting flustered but bless his boyfriend, the other man just pushed on. 

“And what I’m trying to say is, none of that is why Rich was here last night. Dad, he-- his dad really--” 

And Virgil’s voice was shaking, he could hear Virg start to cry like he hadn’t let himself do last night when Richie needed him to be strong. He could hear Mr. Hawkins make a small sound of concern and fold Virgil into a hug. 

Richie made himself look up because if Virgil could be strong for him then fuck it, he could manage it too. 

“Mr. H, last night my dad beat the absolute living shit out of me. I mean-- worse, than when I was younger and stuff, like he really almost...he almost killed me.”

He made himself meet Mr. Hawkins’ gaze and was surprised to find nothing but receptive eyes looking back at him. Swallowing loudly around his throat, Richie rasped, “And V and I, we’re always careful around my house, we aren’t there holding hands, or kissing, but. But my father decided that he didn’t like V coming around the house to get me and he snapped, and...I’m sorry V got hurt, sir.” 

He made himself look the older man in the face when he apologized, knew that he needed to take responsibility for Virgil’s injuries. Richie started, surprised, to find Mr. Hawkins moving towards him and placing large hands on his shoulders. The feel of them almost felt like his own father’s but nothing like them, not at all, always kind and caring, and Richie felt himself bite hard into his lower lip to keep from crying. Again. 

“Mr. Hawkins, it’s all my fault.”

“No, Richie. Your dad is a mean man plain and simple,” and oh god, he was being swept into a hug, Mr. Hawkins hadn’t given him one of these for years, “and he’s cruel, and he can’t see what a smart son he’s got. Luckily us Hawkins, we know better.”

One large hand on his back now, emanating a soothing heat in the place his own father had kneed him in the back. Body tensing, Richie sobbed even though it was like running a chainsaw through his tonsils, knew he’d be coughing up blood later today if he kept wailing, but he couldn’t make himself stop. 

Virgil had somehow slipped onto the bed next to him and just held his hand and let him cry, and Richie snivelled and sniffed and tried to remind himself he didn’t even _like _his own dad.__

__(But he’d loved him.)_ _

__

__Sharon came up later with plated eggs and bacon, eyes solemn, her first aid kit tucked under one arm. She sat cross-legged on the bed and made Richie take off his shirt and bandaged all of the cuts he had before she held him close, his head tucked into the crook of her neck, and Richie had just let her. She was strong and silent and didn’t demand anything of him, only kept him buoyed up and floating, and if Rich hadn’t spent the last of his tears on her father he might’ve shed them then._ _

__He knew that Virgil was messed up because he didn’t say a word but thank you to his sister. When she made to leave, he had grabbed her tight and kissed her temple, and she swatted him halfheartedly before going down the hall to get ready for her mid-morning shift._ _

__Brown eyes found brown eyes and he could only watch V frown, his hands coming up to frame his face._ _

__“Look at you,” he said, softly, anger making the teen’s voice tremble._ _

__Virgil’s thumb smoothed over the plane of his face, and Richie wondered what they looked like right now, dark skin on bruised skin on pale skin. Breathing shakily he caught Virgil’s hand in his own and pressed a kiss to it._ _

__“Look at me. Still here. Still wildly gay for some dumbass superhero. Still kissing you.”_ _

__He kissed V’s hand again, and again, until Virgil screwed his mouth up in a somewhat-smile and leaned down to take the next kiss sneakily._ _

__“V,” the genius whispered, “thank you.”_ _

__He got a real smile then, goofy and lopsided._ _

__“Love you too, Osgood.”_ _


	2. Chapter 2

He was unofficially moved into the Hawkins residence later that week. And by unofficially, Richie supposed he meant his mother dropped off two suitcases packed with every stitch of clothing that still fit him and all his comic books at V’s house on a Sunday morning, when the Hawkins were at church.

She had kissed his face all over, like she used to when he was little. In his arms, she was so small-- so frail-- and he had hugged her tightly, not wanting to let go when he knew she was going back into a monster’s den.

“I’m going away for a while.”

Her words surprised him, and he drew back to look at her. Look down at her, because he was taller than her and almost a man now, and wasn’t that something?

“You’re leaving him? Mom, be--”

“Careful. Yes. Honey, I’m just... going to your aunt’s for a while. Think things through. Any man that can almost kill a baby,” here her voice trembled, pale blue eyes wavering like her voice did, “not just any baby, but _our_ baby, well. I’ve got to think about some things.”

There had been more whispered in that goodbye, including a small, brave smile to tell that Hawkins boy she loved him and an envelope that was tightly packed for him to open with Mr. Hawkins.

When his mother left, Richie watched the fingers of wind pick at red hair and her dress until she disappeared into a taxi at the end of the driveway. The car had two more suitcases in the backseat, and Margaret Foley was a small-ish woman but she had never seemed so big and determined than sitting in that backseat.

Richie watched the back window until he couldn’t see his mother’s hair anymore, and cursed for the millionth time that he looked like a monster instead of the woman who actually loved him.

******************************************

Baddies seemed to hibernate a little more in autumn, which Richie cautiously mentioned to Virgil softly under the cover of night. It had taken a lot for both of them to keep up the crimefighting and their grades, school always getting out at the same time Ebon or Hotstreak or Talon wanted to start some shit.

And it was so hard to keep track of weeks anymore. It felt like the beginning of senior year but he and V were sitting for their SATs in September, were joking around in Spanish II by early October. The seasons melted carefully from that blistering summer to a queer sort of autumn in the best way possible, a slow winding dotted with Baby run-ins.

A cool night close to Halloween, Richie stepped off the saucer and stretched, groaning at the ache in his back. Virgil jumped off and snatched up his disc, his face stony as he strode over to the bed they had moved into the gas station.

“V, that fight was brutal, man. A guy needs a little R&R.”

First his helmet, then his backpack, then his shirt. Rich looked over to see Virgil hadn’t moved, except to set his disc on the floor and take off his mask. Head bowed, the warm orange of the streetlamp hid the rest of Virg’s face. Richie fought off a shiver.

“V? Virgil?

Virgil slowly took off his jacket and let it slide to the floor. Richie moved to sit next to him, bed creaking.

“Virgil, baby. C’mon.”

One hand found another, and only then did Virgil’s shoulders begin to lose their tension. Virgil tried to get his voice under control to speak, eyes shut and head bowed.

"Richie, man, I’ve been thinking-- you, you keep getting mail from these colleges that want you.” 

He tried to continue but the words got stuck in his throat.

Richie felt his eyes widen, shifting closer on the bed, cursing the comically squeaky bedsprings. 

“Yea, I’ve seen ‘em.”

Virgil's voice was soft, so soft, like he'd been crying. Hell, maybe he had been, earlier when he'd gone to grab the mail by himself that morning.

“You, uh. You gonna take them?”

Richie sagged against his boyfriend on the bed, eyelids closed against the seemingly harsh light of the streetlamp in full view. He could feel his heart pounding sluggishly, thick blood just under the surface behind his ears, in his throat, at his wrists. Richie cast about in his mind for energy to answer the question and could only sigh, pushing his nose into the crook of Virgil’s neck.

“Baby, if I'm being honest, I haven't even thought about it. That's a lot to unpack and I haven't had the time.”

The shaky breath that V exhaled seemed reluctant, like Virgil blamed himself for wanting that exact answer but also wanting the entire world for Richie, which was just course for par.

“I don't mean to push you. I just was wondering about what you were thinking, and--

Tracing the line of V’s neck with his nose, Richie murmured, “I think I don't want to think about anything but you right now. Can you handle that?”

A grin that Richie felt against his skin, Virgil’s jawline unyielding against his scalp.

“Oh, I think I could manage that, Osgood.”


End file.
